


My Eternity (begins with you)

by unfortunate17



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domestic!AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: In which Zayn and Liam lose a child (and their whole lives too).<br/>..........................................................................................</p><p>"I love you," Liam slurs softly, "do you still love me?"</p><p>The dark is too heavy and Zayn can hear the heavy ticking from the living room clock.</p><p>"Please, Zayn. do you still love me? Because I want you to love me."</p><p>The dark is like a cage and it's still too heavy. Tick.</p><p>"I’m sorry Jaimie died Zayn. I loved him too, you know. I loved him just as much as you did. I loved him so much. and I really, really love you Zayn. please. don't -" Liam breaks off unsteadily.<br/>.................................................................................................</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Eternity (begins with you)

**Author's Note:**

> New Ziam oneshot :) (see end for full prompt).
> 
> WARNINGS: death, terminal illness, depression syndromes, thoughts of suicide, language.
> 
> oh and please pay attention to the dates to avoid confusion.

**............................................................**

You see, Zayn grew up a superstar with adoring fans and paps and flashy cameras in which he found his god. He grew up without the _could have, should have, would have_. He also grew up without his mum and dad and sisters and friends. He grew up knowing people were vicious and cruel and that the world only glittered on the outside. He grew up knowing that he was the head of game- he was in _that_ boyband after all. The one that had everything, the one that saw it all, the one that still got recognized nine years later, the one that was supported by the world even with their "sexuality crisis" as papers and managements called it.

Zayn also grew up knowing he was lucky. That he was lucky to see the world, to have four brothers (well, three brothers - and one - _well_ ). That he was lucky to live the dream of a thousand wished stars. That he was lucky to be more than just a boy from Bradford with those stars in his eyes.

Zayn was so _infinitely_ lucky.

But as he's standing in front of the little gray stone, staring downwards with wet eyes, he can't understand where that luck's gone.

( _Jaiman Malik, January 29th, 2019 - March 7th, 2021. beloved son.)_

_\--_

_(Death is the last chapter of life, but the first chapter of eternity)._

**............................................................**

Zayn dreams in white.

He dreams of stark hopsital rooms and sterile smells and little arms wrapped around his neck _._ (He _does_ get it from you, Liam had said, eons ago, eyes crinkling).

Zayn dreams in black.

He dreams of dressing in his nice, black suit (the one which he no longer wears) and forgetting to style his hair as he takes Liam's hands and leads him to the gravestones. (now he wishes for little arms to wrap around his neck).

Zayn dreams in red.

He dreams of blood, of bruises and swollen collarbones, of young, childish smiles and he dreams of finger-shaped bruises on the little arms that wrapped around his neck. Zayn dreams of color in his dead, dead world. 

(and he wishes he didn't dream at all).

**............................................................**

_(December 2018)_

"I like blue," Liam says, eyes squinting at the blank, white wall.

Zayn rolls his eyes because _of course_ Liam would like blue and Liam turns to frown at him, "What's wrong with blue?"

Zayn shrugs, "It's so," he struggles for a moment, hunting for the right word, "predictable."

Liam raises an eyebrow but Zayn trudges forward hurriedly, "I mean come on Li, everyone's expecting a blue nursery for a boy. And we can't do what everyone wants, I’m - we're - more creative than that."

Liam scrunches his face and Zayn helplessly drops a kiss to his shoulder (if Liam keeps looking like that, Zayn is going to crumble within the next thirty seconds), "But I liked the blue."

Zayn holds up the other can of paint he'd chosen at the hardware store, "Yellow's nice too." He shrugs, then as a last ditch effort at blackmail, throws in, "Besides, Doniya likes yellow." Liam's frown deepens, torn between making Doniya (and Zayn, mostly Zayn) happy and going for what, in his mind, is clearly the better choice.

Zayn nudges his shoulder, "She's got our baby in her stomach - do you really want to fuck with her right now?"

Liam chances a look at him and Zayn, the little shit, is smirking in triumph and Liam knows he's lost completely (because what would he not do for that beautiful baby boy and this, other, beautiful boy), "Ok," he mutters quietly, "yellow it is." 

And as Zayn smiles devastatingly at him, Liam thinks that the yellow walls might have been a pretty good trade off if Zayn's going to look like that.

Zayn leans to press another kiss to his shoulder, "good choice Li" and then softer as if he's trying to hide from the rest of the world even though it's just them in the room, "love you." 

Liam sighs as something in his stomach clenches warmly (he thought that whatever it was, it'd stop with time, but it hasn't). He smiles softly, "Yeah ok." 

He watches as Zayn lifts his arms in a stretch and attempts to say something, but his words get cut by a yawn. 

Liam huffs out a laugh, "Come-on, we'd better get to bed."

(He wakes up the next morning to a wall half painted in blue and Zayn curled on the floor with a paintbrush cradled in his hands and blue in his hair.)

**............................................................**

Sometimes Zayn wonders what it would be like to die. To be laid down into the hard, packed earth beside his son and slip into an eternity of peaceful, troubled sleep.

Then he looks at Liam - the Liam that Jaiman ( _so fancy,_ Liam had teased once, _Jaimie sounds just as great)_ had left behind. And now, Zayn doesn't remember anything from the man he fell in love with. He doesn't see the the bright eyes and the crinkled smiles and the large, warm hands. Instead, when Zayn gets home from his visit to death, Liam is passed out on the couch with a pungent smelling, empty bottle at his feet.

And Zayn remembers that the first time he walked in on Liam drunk, he'd been shocked out of his mind and had managed to pull him to bed with _you're ok baby, you're ok._ It had been a week after Jaiman's death ( _Jaimie,_ as Liam fondly called him) when it started and since then, Zayn watches as Liam disappears to destroy himself every night. And fucking hell, he's so numb now and as much as he wants to, he can no longer bring himself to properly care.

Zayn pads quietly over to switch off the hushed television, but halfway across, he forgets about the coffee table situated in the center and smacks his foot square on his left shin. (Zayn forgets a lot of things these days). He hisses sharply, in-taking a breath at the pulsing pain flooding his leg.

There's a brief moment of shuffling and Zayn hears the old springs on the couch creak.

"Zayn?"

Zayn's gaze flickers up, finding Liam's upright, wobbly silhouette in the low-lit room. He leans over to shut off the TV, silently. 

"Zayn?"

And god, Liam sounds like he's been desperately drinking himself to oblivion through his tears. (Zayn doesn't cry. he didn't cry when Jaimie died and he wasn't about to cry now - part of him is afraid he won't be able to stop if he starts).  Something twists in him at the pathetic sight, so far from the immaculate Liam he remembers from all those lifetimes before. 

The room is pitch black now that the television's off and Zayn doesn't spare Liam another word as he slips past his shuddering frame to the bedroom, not bothering to help Liam (who looks smashed out his mind) back to bed.

" _Zayn_?" 

He can hear Liam choking in the living room as he strips to his boxers and pulls the covers swiftly over his head.

The bed is unnaturally cold.

(And sometimes Zayn yearns for Liam's body heat and his warm mouth at his collarbone. _I love you._ )

"Zayn, please."

The voice is currently very close to his ear (Liam must have finally made his way to the bedroom), but Zayn only holds the covers tighter in place, careful not to let any part of his body be visible to his husband waiting in the freezing room.

"I need you. Zayn, I need you."

He cleches his jaw to force down his urge to shout, because as much as Zayn doesn't want to ( _can't_ ) watch as Liam plagues his body with liquid poison, there's a part of him - a very large part - that's still in love.

A hand settles hesitantly on top of the covers, near his hips and Zayn presses helplessly into the touch. He feels neglected and lost and _craving_ \- even though he's the one that's been keeping the distance. A moment passes before the bed dips, cautiously, as Liam crawls in next to him, fully clothed and reeking of an assortment of scents that remind Zayn of ashes and dirt and death.

Zayn sighs heavily, creeping closer to the edge of the bed and away from Liam because that man next to him isn't Liam. That man next to him is a man that Zayn will probably lose - to alcohol, to the cold ground, to others - he doesn't know. But he does know that he's already half lost him the day they lowered a small, fragile body six feet under. (And Zayn can't watch another person rip his skin open, damn-it.)

Unfortunately, Liam doesn't seem to understand Zayn's well-intentioned thinking, for he molds his body to Zayn's back and mouths at his spine, making Zayn flinch sharply. Liam pauses when he feels the unexpected twitch and Zayn stares resolutely ahead as something hot and wet runs down his back from where Liam's cheek is tucked into his shoulder.

"I love you," Liam slurs softly, "do you still love me?"

The dark is too heavy and Zayn can hear the heavy ticking from the living room clock.

"Please, Zayn. do you still love me? Because I want you to love me."

The dark is like a cage and it's still too heavy. _Tick._

"I’m sorry Jaimie died Zayn. I loved him too, you know. I loved him just as much as you did. I loved him so much. and I really, really love you Zayn. please. don't -" Liam breaks off unsteadily.

And Zayn carefully untangles the arms around his waist, pushing them back in Liam's direction because _fuck_ if he's going to suffer from repeated exit wounds for the second time.

"Zayn?"

He clenches his teeth (half from anger, half to keep the burning in his eyes at bay), "Shut up, Liam." He chokes into the pillow that hauntingly smells like children's bubble bath, "Fucking hell just - _shut up_ ," 

He feels Liam still suddenly behind him, body deflating in hopelessness and he presses a last, final kiss to Zayn's spine before shifting away to the opposite end of the queen sized mattress.

" 'night, Zayn."

(The bed is still unnaturally cold).

**............................................................**

_(January 1st 2019)_

"Happy New Year," Liam mutters quietly into his shoulder as Zayn huffs a laugh and runs a hand down Liam's back. 

"That was last night," he teases softly, dropping a kiss to Liam's head of unruly curls that's currently tucked tightly into his chest.

"Still," Liam insists childishly and continues to burrow closer and deeper into Zayn's arms.

There's a moment of silence.

"You know, this is the last New Year that's going to be just us two," Zayn muses quietly and Liam shifts back slightly to look up at him, brows furrowed.

"Does that bother you?"

And Zayn laughs, "No. Not at all actually. It's just going to be different - you know, with him around." 

Liam turns onto his back, drawing Zayn's arms around him and trapping his hands with his own, "Speaking of him. We can't just call him "baby" forever you know."

Zayn raises an eyebrow, "We still have a couple weeks."

Liam bites his lips, eyes tracing the ceiling, "I like _Taylor_."

And Zayn lets out a bark of laughter, that he attempts to turn into a cough at Liam's sharp glare, "like Swift?"

Liam crinkles his nose at him, pouting, "thanks for that, Zayn. Now we've got to think of something else. 

Then Zayn turns to press into him, still smiling, "We can still use Taylor if you want, Li, was only messing with you."

But Liam shakes his head furiously, "No way. Not after what you just said." 

Zayn sighs as another long silence takes over that's only broken when Liam choses to speak ten minutes later.

"Zayn?" 

"Hmm?" Zayn noses Liam's neck and Liam squirms uncomfortably (he's always been too ticklish for his own good).

"You name him."

Zayn pulls back in shock, "Why?"

Liam bites his lips, "Because - because well. We're using my - um. You know. To make him and stuff and it's only fair that he gets your name because you know -"

Zayn cocks an eyebrow, cutting off his rambling, "Li, you don't have to do that."

"I want to." Liam twists the covers in fingers, "I want _you_ to."

Zayn drops a kiss to his shoulder before muttering quietly, " _Jaiman_."

Liam mulls the name carefully, "What's it mean?"

Zayn smiles into his skin (making Liam squirm again), " 's urdu. For victory." And he feels Liam to shift off his back to press closer to him.

"Jaiman Malik."

And Zayn snorts, "I was thinking more Jaiman Payne." 

But Liam is shaking his hear furiously, "No. It's your name. It has to be Malik."

"Li-" 

"No, please Zayn. Malik sounds better. And I really want this."

Zayn shifts up on an elbow to look at him critically, "You sure? Because I don't want to you to feel like he's just mine. Because he's yours too."

Liam smiles brilliantly, "But he is. He's literally half of me. And now you get the rest."

Zayn runs a hand down Liam's cheek, smile splitting his face in half and heart swelling six sizes too big, because how _the fuck_ did he get this man?

"Ok."

**............................................................**

Zayn wishes that he didn't dream at night.

You see most of the time Zayn dreams in black, white, and red in his dead, dead world.

(But sometimes, he dreams in death.) 

He dreams in death and wakes up with sweat soaked sheets and trembling hands, knees and a quivering mouth.

"Zayn? You ok, love?" 

Zayn yanks the pillow over his head to smother the _help, daddy. Help me. Hurts daddy. Hurts._

_"Zayn."_

And Zayn chokes on the untethered heart in his throat and stumbles out of the bed, ignoring Liam's arms, to the bathroom where the tiles feel blessedly cool against his feet. One look in the mirror at his flushed cheeks and crazed eyes has him filling his palms with water from the sink and dumping the liquid straight over his head in a desperately pathetic attempt to drown. 

The lights switch is flipped and Zayn can see, from the corner of the mirror, that Liam is looking at him with those pitiful eyes that the people on the street throw at him and he thinks _yes, I’ve completely lost him._

Liam hesitates, arms jerking, but in the end he doesn't reach forward to wrap Zayn into his warmth the way he would have _before_.

"you alright?" he questions quietly as Zayn presses into the sink, hair dripping ice cold water down his forehead. He shivers violently. (He doesn't know if it's the cold or the stench of death).

"Zayn." 

And Zayn whirls to face the man that he's still irrationally in love with and slams his fist into the door. " _Fuck off, Liam._ "

And then he sort of wishes he hadn't said it because Liam kind of crumbles in on himself and Zayn can suddenly see the torn capillaries that mirror his own. He takes a shuddering breath, "Please, Liam. Just fuck off, yeah."

Liam's face hardens at his words, "Fine." he opens his mouth to say something more (and a part of Zayn desperately yearns to hear _more_ ) but he must think better of it because he shakes his head and drags his feet out of the bathroom. His shoulders are sort of hunched and he looks as defeated as Zayn feels. He wants to call out to him, to reassure him, to do _something_. (Zayn wants to do a lot of things, but he's always been a man of few).

When he does finally re-enter the room twenty minutes later, Liam isn't lying down like he thinks he would be. Instead, Zayn can trace the shape of his spine, upright and rigid at the edge of his bed. "Li," his voice cracks so he clears his throat, "go to bed."

Liam turns to face him and his gaze is luminous in the dark. "I can't do this anymore," he whispers hoarsely.

And something deep inside Zayn shatters into expected pieces because he fucking _knew it_ \- he knew he'd already lost Liam but the pushing away hasn't seemed to have worked. Because now, Zayn feels even more intertwined with that man and his exit wounds are tenfold. 

His voice is low and harsh, "So you want a divorce, yeah?"

There's a long moment of silence.

"No." (Zayn feels his blood pressure diffuse as a surge of relief flows through him), "I just - I _wish_ I didn't want you." Zayn stares as Liam stands suddenly, moving to the window at the far edge of the room, "I _wish_ I couldn't do this anymore."

"Liam."

Liam spins, frustrated, " _no._ all you do is push me away. I want to help you. I want to-" _love you._  

Zayn tries to swallow back his comment, but it slips out, "just like you help yourself?"

Liam narrows his eyes defiantly, "what's that supposed to mean?"

Zayn presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and tries to contain his voice lest he begins to shout, "I find you drunk on the couch every night."

The admission hangs in the air for a long moment (and Zayn can't remember when they'd changed to _this_ \- to awkward pauses and long silences). 

Liam sighs heavily, "Yeah well I need _something_."

Zayn huffs a breath, "Please, don't you _dare_ play the fucking victim here. I lost my s _on_ Liam. I watched my son _die_. And did you?" he takes a shuddering gulp, " _No._ because your fucking phone was dead and _work_ was more import-" (and he shouldn't be saying these things - these things are for his mind late at night). 

Liam smashes his fist into the window, "God damn-it Zayn. Don't you think I’m sorry?" he gasps and for the first time Zayn thinks Liam might be as broken as he is. "I’m so _fucking sorry._ Jaimie - Jaimie was - " he chokes off with a sob. "Don't you think I’m paying for it every god damn time you flip me off and every fucking time I’m asleep." Liam sounds heartbroken and Zayn resolutely stares into the darkness, keeping his eyes away from his shaking figure.

The dark is too heavy.

"He begged you know," Zayn says, voice cruel and taunting (god he just wants to break Liam and hate him so he's not gasping in pain, staring at his unscrewed organs when Liam leaves like Jaiman), "he begged to see you. Asked me why you weren't there and hugged me and took my phone - tried to call you -"

" _Please,"_ Liam gasps, sinking to his knees, " _please_ stop. god."

"And you didn't pick up. It went to your fucking answering machine. He died asking me to help him." 

" _Zayn for fuck's sake - shut the hell up."_  

Zayn laughs bitterly, "Why? Didn't you want to know that he died holding my phone after I promised that you'd show up?"

Liam bites his knuckles, drawing blood, "I’m so sorry. So sorry."

"Well that's just not fucking good enough is it? I watched my son _die_ , Liam. Don't you dare fucking tell me that you're the victim." But before Zayn can close the door, he hears Liam brokenly mutter that _Jaimie is my son too._

He slams the door shut.

 **............................................................**

_(January 29th, 2019)_

"Mr. Malik, Mr. Payne, your son is here. You can go see him now if you'd like." The nurse smiles brilliantly at them and Zayn leaps to his feet, forgetting Liam's head that's been nestled on his shoulder, leaving it to slam into the armrest. 

Liam groans and rubs his right temple with his fingers, still groggy. They'd been here for more than eight hours because apparently their son _was putting up quite the fight._

Zayn shakes his shoulder excitedly, "Li, Li - babe - he's here. He's here yeah? And Doniya's inviting us in. _Liam._ " 

And Liam looks up at Zayn's tired, excited eyes and bites his lips, suddenly nervous, "Ok," he mutters quietly because _what the fuck, he has no idea how to be a father_. He knew this was a bad idea to start with. _He's only twenty five for fuck's sake_. 

"Hey," Zayn kneels in front of him, pulling his hands to press his cheeks into, "he'll love you just as much as I do." 

Liam smiles bravely and goes to sit up but Zayn holds him down with his hands and bright eyes. "Understand Li?"

Liam nods hesitantly, "Nothing to be afraid of."

Zayn smiles (and Liam thinks there might be tears in his eyes), "Yeah, now come on let's go meet Jaimie."

And Liam lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and rises to his feet, pulling Zayn along as they enter the hospital room with Doniya lying tiredly on the bed, a small bundle of blue cloth in her arms. She holds him out to Zayn quietly, with seemingly great effort and Liam notes her completely broken expression.

Zayn scoops the boy carefully from his sister and crowds against Liam so he can see the small mouth, button nose, tuft of dark hair, and tenderly closed eyes and Liam feels a rush of protectiveness and love so strong that he has to reach out to grasp Zayn's chin and pull him into a kiss to steady the both of them.

" _Jaiman Malik._ " Zayn mutter hotly and Doniya makes a small, sad noise in the background, making Zayn turn his head to look at her. "Hey," he mutters quietly, "Doni - you can come see him anytime. _Anytime, yeah._ "

Doniya nods quietly, eyes tearing, "He's perfect." 

Zayn smiles, "He is, but he's only here because of you. _Thank you._ I love you, Doni." he hands Jaimie to Liam and strides over to pull his older sister into a tight embrace and Doniya fists his shirt with her hands in desperation. 

"Anytime, doni. We promise." Zayn mutter into her year, "Thank you for doing this. _Thank you._ "

And Liam can't imagine how hard it must be to have a child, to have a piece of yourself and have to give it up or lose it. Looking at Doniya, he thinks that she just might just be the bravest person he's ever come across in his lifetime.

And as he cradles Jaimie closer to his chest, he prays that he'll never have to say goodbye because he thinks neither him nor Zayn are brave enough to do so.

**............................................................**

_(12 August, 2020)_

Zayn had no idea that his world could be shattered by something that didn't involve Liam leaving him. He didn't know that anyone (other than Liam or Jaiman) had such power over him. But when the oncologist mutters the words _Infant Leukemia,_ Zayn is shattering into blood-spiked shards, trying to frantically muffle his choking breaths in his jumper.

He glances at Liam to find his gaze trained on the beautiful baby in his lap, just a year-and-a half old, with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"I’m sorry," the oncologist mutters helplessly. She's young and pretty with smooth dark skin and pitch black hair and Zayn absolutely loathes her.

"You're lying." Zayn says bluntly, "Jaiman is - "

"The tests are all positive Mr. Malik, your son has leukemia." her eyes are pitiful and Zayn snarls at her. "On a positive note, Infant Leukemia has a ninety-five percent survival rate." She lays a hand on Zayn's shoulder reassuringly, "Your son will be ok. He just needs some treatment."

Zayn turns his head to find Jaiman babbling happily in Liam's arms as he attempts to poke the birthmark on his neck.

Liam swivels his head to face him, Jaiman still smiling innocently in his lap, "How soon can we start?"

The doctor smiles, "As soon as you make an appointment. In the mean time take care of him. He bruises easily - make sure to keep him safe."

Zayn swallows the terrible knot in his throat that's managed to reach down and constrict his blood flow, "Always."

Liam presses Jaiman closer to his body and turns to Zayn, hands trembling and says quietly, "He'll be ok."

Zayn feels something churn dangerously as he nods his head and forces an optimistic tone, "Yeah. Yeah, he will."

**............................................................**

"You're a selfish bastard, Zayn."

Zayn lifts his head from the kitchen table and looks up at Doniya, who's got a spatula in her hands, stirring a pot of something that smells absolutely delicious that makes Zayn want to be sick. (He can't seem to find anything _good_ in the world anymore), "What do you mean?" 

Doniya sighs heavily, shutting off the stove and reaching over to take a seat across from him, "It's not always about you."

Zayn traces the wood grains with a single finger, "I know. But he- he just _acts_ like this kicked puppy and I just can't fucking _stand_ it."

"Zayn, he's mourning," Doniya says quietly, "you need to understand that he's just as hurt as you are. Jaiman was just as much his son as he was yours."

Zayn shakes his head mournfully, "How can you say that? He wasn't even _there,_ Doni.He just _acts_ like - "

"Zayn," Doniya whispers, "don't you think he _wanted_ to be there? Don't you think you're _killing_ him?"

Zayn sighs tiredly, "It's not about what he wants, he _should_ have been there. _Should_ have." 

Doniya leans back heavily, "Remember that it's never about what _should_ happen." (And Zayn can remember these words, this same set of words, spoken at a different time by a different person, both times when his world was falling apart and he feels something unwind and lift from within him).

He struggles to control his emotion and his tears. (For the first time since Jaiman's death - there are tears in his eyes and they're there because Zayn finally, fucking _understands_ ). Doniya throws him a sharp smile filled with bitterness and grief, "Remember that he was my son too."

(Jaiman was a son to a lot of people).

 _And Zayn accepts_.

**............................................................**

_(2 December, 2020)_

The oncologist is back (her name is Hema) and she's still pretty, still young, and Zayn still hates her. This time more than before. (The pity in her eyes seemed to have multiplied by a tenfold just as the ache in Zayn's bones as multiplied by a tenfold).

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Malik," she whispers sounding properly broken (And Zayn wants to shout, to scream because she's a bloody doctor and she said Jaiman would be ok - and _now_?

 _Now_ she's telling him different?) "Would you like to call your husband?" 

Zayn swallows back his fear in order to make understandable words, "But, I don't understand," he chokes, "You said - you said that Jaiman would be ok. You said - you fucking _promised_ that -"

Hema shrinks back into her seat at his fury, muttering, "The chemo is no longer making an effect." 

"Bloody hell," Zayn shouts, frustrated, "keep fucking _trying_ then. You're not allowed to give up on him. Nobody gets to give up on him." 

Hema drops her gaze to the file on her lap, "Mr. Malik, I’m going to be very honest here. There's almost no chance that Jaiman will recover. The cancer had already spread too far before he was brought in for treatment - which is nobody's fault. With some people it just develops faster."

"What're you saying?" Zayn spits, unconvinced. 

Hema clears her throat, "Choosing to continue chemo would make Jaiman be miserable for no reason."

Zayn shakes his head, "I’m not going to stop his treatment. There's no chance in hell."

The woman nods and carefully chooses her next words.

"Let me ask you something, Mr. Malik," the nurse fiddles nervously with her pen, "what's more important to you? The quality of his life or the quantity of his life?"

Zayn presses his hands to his eyes (everything is begging to sink in now and Zayn just wants to claw it out. claw if the fuck out and chuck it so far, he'll never see it again), "I don't know," he says, childishly evading the truth.

Hema nods, "Well think of it this way - would you rather that Jaiman enjoy the life he has left - that he goes home, sleeps through the night, eats his favorite foods, be around his family, have his hair grow back - or would you rather him fight out the remainder of his life in a hospital?"

(Zayn is _breaking_ ).

"But he'd live longer if he was here wouldn't he?" Zayn asks with a sinking sensation.

"He would." 

Zayn nods and tells her that he'll be back in a minute as he stumbles out of the office, into the hospital hallways as everything in him cries for time to just _stop_ passing. He reaches shaking hands into his pocket to pull out his phone and dials Liam's number.

It goes straight to voice mail and Zayn knows that Liam must be in the studio (something that he had opted to skip when the call from the doctor had come in) because Simon had insisted that at least one of them needed to be present for a new song recording. He sighs, frustrated, because Liam has a strict no phones in the studio policy and Zayn repeatedly hits the "redial" button, until, on the seventh try, Liam finally, _finally_ picks up.

"Hello?"

 Zayn can hear the other lads in the background and he wonders with a pang why him and Liam seem to have the most difficult life. This isn't the hand they deserve. (But he also knows that this isn't the hand anyone deserves).

"Liam," he sighs into the phone, pressing it to his ear with a death grip.

"Zayn - what's wrong, Zayn?"

 Zayn swallows tightly, "Jaimie - he."

He hears Liam shush everyone around them before he returns to the call, voice slightly hysterical, "What about Jaimie?"

Zayn takes a deep breath, "They want to pull him off chemo."

There's a long pause

"I’m going to take him off chemo, Liam." Zayn says quietly.

"Why?" And Zayn's never heard Liam's voice like this before. And he doesn't know what to make of it. 

"The doctors say there's no point, that we should just-"

"No point?" Liam explodes, "This is about his _life_ Zayn and I don't know about you, but I'd do _anything_ to keep him alive."

Zayn sighs heavily, "He's going to die, Liam." (And no, Zayn has _no fucking idea_ what he's saying), "It's just the matter of where and how now."

There's another long silence and Zayn pleads quietly, "Let me bring him home, Liam. Let's make him happy."

"I don't even know what to say," Liam says softly and Zayn can tell that he's crying, tears slipping down his flushed cheeks and eyes glazed with grief.

"Say that you love him. Say that we'll always love him. Say - " Zayn's voice chokes and he presses the intercom tightly to his ear (he's going to leave a mark on his ear), "This is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done."

"You have to," Liam says, voice aching, "you need to-"

Zayn breathes heavily, "This wasn't supposed to happen, Li it was supposed to be different. it _should_ have been different."

"You know it doesn't work that way, Zayn."

Zayn nods foolishly, before realizing that Liam can't see him through the line. He clears his throat, "Liam," he mutters, finally, "promise me you'll always pick up your phone if I call. Because what if Jaimie is - just. Just pick up your phone Li"

"I promise."

**............................................................**

Zayn comes home from his talk with Doniya to find that Liam is in-fact, not passed out on the couch.

He pads past the dark living room and kitchen before making his way to the bedroom where he can hear soft music playing. The room is as dark as the rest of the house, maybe even darker with all the curtains pulled shut and Zayn can barely discern the Liam-shaped imprint under the covers.

He steps hesitantly closer and reaches over to brush his hands against the side of Liam's face, causing his eyes to fly open.

"Zayn?"

Zayn smiles softly, "Yeah, 's me." he pulls his clothes off and creeps under the covers as Liam shifts to give him space. He settles into the bed for a moment, staring at Liam's now clearer features, before, in a split-second, deciding to surge forward to press into his body. Arms cocoon him almost instantly and Zayn smiles into Liam's shoulder, eyes filling with tears.

"Jaiman was your son too," Zayn says quietly, "I’m sorry I forgot that."

He feels Liam shake his head, "it was my fault. I deserve it, don't worry. I should've been there."

Zayn presses a kiss to Liam's birthmark (he remembers the way Jaiman used to press his index finger into it and for some reason, remembering doesn't hurt as much as it used to). "Things rarely work out the way they should," he says quietly, "and - and it's not your fault. I’m sorry I blamed you for something that was beyond our control. He was your son too."

Liam splays a warm hand on Zayn's back and Zayn feels something hot and wet run down his chest from where Liam's head is tucked into his shoulder, "I know and I’m not leaving," Liam says quietly, "you won't lose me. I promise - and I mean it this time."

Zayn tightens his grip, "I don't know what you're on about."

Liam laughs lightly and the sound startles Zayn - he hasn't heard it in so long (and it's the right kind - not the one he laughs, laced with bitterness and hurt and _ache_ ), "I know you, Zayn." 

Zayn takes Liam's hand and presses it to his chest and they lie there for a minute, listening to his erratic heartbeat, "Exit wounds," Zayn murmurs as an explanation, "I have a lot from Jaimie - just didn't want any more."

Liam furrows his brow and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, looking pensive, "Jaimie didn't leave exit wounds, Zayn. You made them yourself." 

Zayn intakes a breath, but Liam continues, "And I’m not planning on making any either. so - calm down, love. And just - just be. With me. Ok?"

Zayn releases his breath and cautiously nods, "Ok."

Liam looks up at the ceiling and smiles fondly, "Remember how he used to wake us up in the morning?"

Zayn shudders, "I thought I was going to lose my ears."

Liam huffs out a laugh, "You loved it."

"I loved him."

Liam turns to face him just as the tears drip down his face.

"I still love him," Zayn whispers.

And in Liam's arms at some absurd time at night, Zayn cries for the first time since Jaiman's death as they begin the long, painful road to recovery.

**............................................................**

_(March 7th, 2021)_

"Hurts," Jaiman mutters tossing onto his side in the hospital bed, "hurts daddy." 

His speech is slurred from the pain medication and his body is the size of about an eighth of the hospital bed and Zayn just thinks that a boy like this should be out running around and raising hell for him and Liam. Instead Jaimie falls into himself in exhaustion as they pray that he'll horse around and break things (that means that he actually _has_ energy).

And Zayn had promised himself that when the time would come, Jaiman wouldn't die in the hospital, but when he had collapsed in the playpen, Zayn had rushed him to the emergency. Because he was selfish and still had that irrational hope.

He runs his hands over his little boy's stomach and drops a kiss to his forehead, "Just for a little longer, Jaimie." 

"Daddy," Jaimie mutters weakly, "I want daddy." 

And Zayn smiles because Jaiman had taken to calling them both daddy, no matter how they tried they couldn't get him to switch to dad and daddy or daddy and dadda ( _No papa_ , Liam had insisted from the beginning, _makes me feel like a pedophile_ \- to which Zayn had burst over laughing).

He nods and pulls his phone out to redial Liam's number - the one he'd been frantically punching since their time in the ambulance. But connection isn't very good while moving so Zayn had resolved to try again once they'd settled in.

The phone goes to answering machine and Zayn frowns because he'd dropped Liam off at the studio this morning (one of them always stayed home to take care of Jaimie and today, it'd happened to be Zayn) for an emergency recording which Zayn had completed the day before. And Liam had promised to keep his phone switched on.

Zayn dials again with no luck.

He sighs and set sets the phone down waiting for Liam to call him instead.

Jaiman looks at him with round eyes, reaching to wind his arms around Zayn's neck, "Is daddy coming?"

Zayn glances at his phone and Jaimie reaches for it, making him pull it out of his grasp. "I'll call him for you, Jaimie."

The line goes to the same answering machine.

Zayn nods, lowering the phone (feeling slightly sick), "Yes he is. I promise. He'll be here soon, ok, soldier."

Jaimie smiles, button nose scrunching, "Ok." he frowns suddenly, "Hurts," he mutters again.

Zayn sighs and drops another kiss to his forehead, "Soon, love. Just a little bit longer."

"Daddy," Jaiman says quietly and Zayn's heart breaks at the sight of his son in a hospital bed, "help me."

Zayn reaches over to brush back his unruly curls, "I’m trying to, Jaimie. I’m trying to." he shudders, "love you soldier. You're the best little boy in the world."

And he giggles as Zayn rubs his stomach and pulls a book from the side desk, proceeding to read to Jaimie, who surprisingly hangs on to every word before drifting off to sleep in under fifteen minutes. 

(And Zayn tries to reign in the fear that Jaiman sleeps nearly nineteen hours a day).

\--

Three hours later and Zayn is still hunched over the hospital bed, tracing his son's still face 

He's called Liam twelve more times with no response and Jaiman hasn't woken up once - not when he cursed the non-existent Liam on the line or when he stubbed his toe on the bed rail.

It's edging five o'clock and Zayn can at least find comfort in the fact that Liam will be home soon and that when he finds the empty house, he'll rush up here for sure.

\--

Four hours later and Zayn's still heard nothing from either Liam or Jaimie and he stretches from his position, dropping another kiss on Jaiman's forehead as he shuffles to the window. he frowns when he still doesn't catch Liam's car anywhere in sight.

He calls again.

Nothing.

Zayn sighs heavily and returns to the bed, clasping Jaiman's hands. Once he wakes up, the nurses have told him that he can take the little boy home. Probably exhaustion, they'd said (and Zayn understands that it's a sign - a sign that a gravestone is _soon_ rather than _later_ , but he chooses not to think about that).

The thing is, Zayn is so busy staring that his sons face, that the long beep that echoes from the ECG doesn't register until nurses are pushing their way inside and pulling him to his feet.

And Zayn chances one glance at the monitor before his stomach bottoms out and his world crashes into nothing around him.

"Mr. Malik," the nurse is in tears, and she's trying to talk over the death time being announced in the background and Zayn can't hear her. He can't see. He can't breathe, "we weren't expecting this. I’m so sorry. So sorry." 

Zayn gasps and his legs give out as he huddles over Jaiman's body, "No," he mutters, "I’m taking him home in a few hours. _Please._ Let me take him home. Bring him _back."_

The nurse shakes her head mutely.

"Please, _fucking hell_. I'll do _anything_. Just give him back, yeah?"

The doctor is trying to gently pull his grip off the little boy but _Jaiman doesn't look dead_ , Zayn thinks frantically. _He's still asleep_. _Just asleep._

"He's two. He's fucking _two_. He's done nothing. _Nothing_. Please. Just give him back. _Give him back_."

And the room falls silent for a moment as Zayn breaks and shatters over the body of his two year old boy. Somewhere far away a phone is ringing but Zayn can't acknowledge anything beyond _Jamian_ and _soldier_ and _dead,_ so it ends up going to voice message.

"Hey Zayn, I saw that you called - quite a bit too - sorry, love, I got held up at the studio... well, I’m on my way home now and I'll talk to you then....bye!"

**............................................................**

Zayn is at the stove (in an attempt) to cook eggs at eight on a Sunday morning when he feels Liam slide up behind him to press a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Morning," he mutters into his skin and Zayn leans back into his touch as a comfortable silence takes over until Zayn turns around with two, slightly burned scrambled eggs in a pan. Liam moves to set the table and hip checks him in an effort to keep the mood playful.

When they're halfway through, Zayn leans back in his chair as Liam puts another bite in his mouth, "well, today's the day."

Liam nods, lips pursed. He laughs suddenly, "Is it wrong that sometimes I’m glad I wasn't there to see it."

And Zayn shakes his head _no_ , "It was awful." (Beyond that actually, but Zayn's understood that Liam has been spared in a way and that irrational part that's always in love with him won't let Zayn tell Liam exactly what had happened in the room.)

Liam sighs and reaches forward to grip Zayn's fingers over the table, "I’m still sorry I wasn't though."

Zayn nods because he doubts either of them will ever stop blaming each other and themselves simultaneously for a long time to come.

Liam's voice is very small when he asks, "Did he really ask for me?"

And Zayn brings Liam's hand up to his mouth, "Don't think on it. It's over - and it wasn't your fault."

"Zayn-"

" _No,_ Liam," Zayn tugs on his hand and pulls him from the table. "Let's go get dressed, yeah - I want to go see him."

And Liam lets himself be pulled up the stairs to their bedroom at the far end of the hallway past two doors - the bathroom and Jaiman's room (that room's been sealed shut for over a year and neither of them has the courage to open it), "That's where you go isn't it?"

Zayn turns back to him and lifts an eyebrow, "What?"

 "When you disappear. You go to see Jaimie."

Zayn looks away and begins to rummage in the closet for his black suit (the one he swore he'd never wear again), "Yeah. So what?"

Liam licks his lips, "So nothing." A beat, then, "Take me with you next time?"

And Zayn turns back to him, suit in hand, and gives him a look, "I am."

And Liam feels a smile spread his cheeks as he steps forward to kiss Zayn hard, knocking the suit from his hands and tugging on his hair.

Zayn huffs a laugh, "Easy," he mutters then carefully leads Liam backwards on the bed to settle between his legs, "I love you," he mutters into his mouth and Liam feels a smile tug his mouth.

"Me too," Liam gasps as Zayn pulls back to yank his shirt over his head, "Zayn - wait."

Zayn drops the shirt to the ground, hands distractingly pressing into his chest, "Why?"

"It's been a long time."

And Zayn hides his face in Liam's shoulder, "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Liam's face goes hot, "No - I just. It's just. Jaimie. And well -" he gestures to the suit Zayn's dropped.

Zayn takes a long, hard look at the crumpled black material before turning back to Liam with an unreadable expression, "Maybe - maybe, Jaimie can wait."

And Liam feels tears prick his eyes as he reaches up with unsteady hands to pull Zayn downwards.

 **............................................................**  

They make it to the tombstone late that night and Zayn is standing in front of the little gray stone, staring downwards with wet eyes, as Liam reaches out to take his hand.

"Hey Jaimie," Liam says, voice cracking, "sorry I wasn't there, soldier." Zayn squeezes his fingers, "We miss you, Jaimie. Everyday. But it's getting better," he chances a glance at Zayn's wet eyes and swallows, "we're learning how to be ourselves again." He bends down to smooth a hand down the gravestone and smiles, "Thanks for everything, Jaimie. I love you so much."

Zayn places his hands on Liam's shoulders, and Liam looks up at him, eyes filled with an indescribable look. Zayn cards a hand through his curls and smiles down at him, "We're ok. We're _ok_."

Liam nods and watches as Zayn presses a hand to the grave stone, eyes shut and silent. But Zayn has always been a man of few.

"Come on," he says, at last and Liam takes one last look at the _Jaiman Malik_ carved elegantly into the stone before he rises and links his fingers with Zayn's. And he's got everything he needs right here in the person next to him. He was going to make it passed this. They both were.

\--

_(Death is the last chapter of life, but the first chapter of eternity)._

**Author's Note:**

> ok. that was - eh. but I hoped you liked it. (and I get that it was a little confusing - I hope you guys understood Zayn's indifference and Liam's sadness and the reasons behind them.)  
> original prompt: can someone write some ziam future fic in which they’re in an established relationship, the band is taking time off, and Zayn and Liam decide they want to start a family and they’re so happy once they get a baby (adopted or idc), but then something bad happens and the infant dies from some sickness and Zayn and Liam succumb to horrible depression and blame themselves and each other and it threatens to break up the band and their marriage and ya end it however you want


End file.
